


dewdrops

by colferstilinski



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colferstilinski/pseuds/colferstilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is nothing like Arya.</p><p>She’s salvation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dewdrops

“—Gendry?” Arya whispers. She sounds befuddled, sleep obvious in her voice as she croaks out. “Are you well? You’re making… noises in your sleep.”

Gendry gulps thickly, chest heaving erratically. He’s _so_ close, the tight grip he has on the base of his cock, reigning in the pleasure _zings_ tightening at his crotch. He needs to come but… but Arya is much more important than his cock.

He needs to _appease_ her—he doesn’t understand why and he never dwells on those thinking long enough to make any sense of it, but beneath all that denial, he knows why exactly.

“I’m well, don’t need to worry. Just… a little hot, that is all. The nights are getting dry and rain hasn’t been sighted for in weeks.”

“That is true,” Arya agrees, humming, and she sits up slowly.

Gendry watches her from his peripheral, the slow track of movement as she pries off the worn in bodice off her body, skin and breasts illuminating in the burning out candlelight of the shady room.

She’s changed so much, in ways that Gendry cannot see past the stubborn, dirty girl who was barely ten and two when they met. She sits beside him now, ten and six, with a woman’s body and breasts swelling from her maturing womanhood.

His fingers itch to skim all that skin on display, to line his body against hers and mould it with sex. He wants to fuck that once horse face girl, to be crude.

“I don’t want to soil the cloths with my sweat.” Arya tells and she sounds a little shy but it’s nothing like those ladies in busy towns with their high pitched giggling as they throw themselves at him. It fits her just well, like a little tease of the girl that she swears never to be. “You can take yours off too, Gendry. It is a lot cooler now.”

Gendry grunts, cock twitching with her words. He feels the leak of liquid smearing against his thigh and the burn in his eyes as he tries not to follow the way her body moves as she folds the fabric neatly.

He wants to _plough_ his cock inside her.

“Nay, it is fine, girl. If a bloody wildling catches us on surprise and I have no armour on… I won’t be able to protect you.”

Arya rolls her eyes at him, cursing heat. “I am no babe, you insolent fool. I may be a _girl_ but I’ve killed men with needle. You’ve seen it, yeah. You’ve watched me fork a man right in his cock who wanted to fuck my cunt.”

Gendry should be losing his erection—he should be anything but feeling fire in his body and the stifling heat of want, take, and _fuck_ in the room.

He groans, unashamed now. “Please stop, Arya.”

Arya lifts a curious brow at him and then there’s a swift jerk of her head before she speaks. “Were you… You were _touching_ yourself, weren’t you?”

Gendry clenches his eyes tight, jaw tightening. He tightens the fist wrapped on his cock and because he’s no noble man—gods fuck no. He’s a bastard child with a wielding for fine daggers and his prized possession was a bull’s helmet that got lost in battle.

He’s killed both men and women, has fucked ladies with innocence in their eyes as he takes their first blush or ones who cheat on their fat, lazy husbands. He is _nothing_ like Arya.

She’s salvation.

“I—Arya. Don’t. Oh fucks.” He’s stroking himself again under the thin quilt that lies as a barrier between them however the movements are so big, jarring, that even in the dim lighting of the candle, she would be able to make out the tent of his hardened arousal, to smell his musk leaking from under the fabric.

Arya hesitates, just a short while, her eyes gets a little lost as he watches him.

“I’ve watched a drunken man fuck his cock into a warm loaf of bread. He closed his eyes and shouted his dead wife’s name and I—I thought of you.” She confesses and looks straight at him in the eyes, full on bravery and so much of the Stark that will never fall. “I have wondered if you have ever shouted my name too.”

“Oh gods, _Ari_ —” Gendry keens, breaths labouring as he comes. It wells up in his fist, coats it thick and slick with warmth until it leaks and dribbles down his abdomen and the drawstrings of his breeches. He’s swallowing in thick gulps of air when he looks back at her, mortified. “—Arya.”

“Is that the first time?” She asks, no beat of hesitance there.

Gendry shakes his head, guilty. He wants to tell her that he’s come with her name on his lips in different tongues, mostly in his mother tongue. When he shouts it in the dead air of the forest, sweat staining all over the grass and the leavings of heat and passion splashes on the ground for her.

It’s countless.

He answers this instead, “It’ll not be the last, which I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> how 2 medieval how
> 
> yeah, i wrote this in like ten minutes for my breast friend sol because she's perfect and deserves all the porn and i really liked it so i re-edited it a little and am posting it. pls don't throw rocks at me, i've tried writing for the got fandom once and i still don't understand a lot of terms and i never read past a storm of swords so i actually don't know if gendry and arya stayed together????
> 
> (((i lied, i do but in my mind GRRM isn't mean to my paedophile shipping heart)))
> 
> again, don't throw rocks at me, i don't understand english


End file.
